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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386284">What Blooms In the Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/benyavin/pseuds/benyavin'>benyavin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Suicidal Thoughts, Tagged Relationships and Ratings May Change, There were a lot of dark elements originally planned for this fic, This is going to be a very dark fic but hopefully will have a semi-happy ending, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, and I'm not sure yet which will be written out as I go, old fic undergoing rewrites, slowburn Zutara, so I guess just be prepared for a potential major changes to the tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:20:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/benyavin/pseuds/benyavin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's darkness locked in every bud, and shadows bloom freely amidst despair. But sometimes, even creatures born in blackness learn to reach for the light of the sun; just as those conceived in brightness may cocoon themselves in ashes. Souls tangle like desperate weeds; they will grow into a garden or a stranglehold.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iroh &amp; Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Ursa &amp; Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Silence and Shadows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Trapped somewhere in between the world of the living and that of dreams, Zuko dozed. Pillowing his head against his arm, his lips parted slightly as he sucked in air. His dreams were murky, unsettling even though there was nothing he could pinpoint in them to disturb, nothing but a half-consciousness of tension from the previous day that refused to be drained away with rest.</p><p>Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and the mist in his mind dissipated slightly, shaken away to the edges of his awareness by the hand rubbing at his shoulder ever so gently. He responded immediately, eyes parting drowsily and a confused sigh escaping him as he took in the figure above him in the dim light.</p><p>"Mom?"</p><p>Ursa pulled him upright, clutching his thin shoulders with a force that set off warning bells in his head. Unable to think, to dispel the fog creeping back in, he struggled to think beyond the blaring feeling of wrongness.</p><p>"Zuko. Please, my love; listen to me." His head drooped, but he forced himself to look back up at her. Even through the haze, her urgency was clear, every moment confirming the instinct fighting against the drowsiness consuming his mind. "Everything I've done, I've done to protect you." She pulled him into her arms, held him tightly. Closing his eyes, Zuko lay his head against her shoulder.</p><p><em>Remember this,</em> he thought. <em>I’m going to need to remember.</em> There was something he was missing, something he should know already, something that would tell him why. Only it was so hard to remember anything.</p><p>He drifted away from reality again, only brought back when she flinched. Footsteps echoed in the hall. He felt her turn, glancing worriedly over her shoulder. <em>What could she be afraid of? Mom is never afraid. She’s a turtle-duck, she bites back.</em></p><p>Grasping his arms again, she reluctantly peeled away from her son. "Remember this, Zuko."</p><p>He lifted his head, all his concentration on keeping his eyes wide open, focused on his mother’s face. Taking in worry and fear, etched onto her delicate features. <em>You have to remember.</em> "No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."</p><p>She released him, gently, as he slowly nodded, tired and confused. The words were taking so long to register, if only he could just <em>think</em>, he could grasp what was happening.</p><p>"Mom?" His tongue felt like ash in his mouth, but he managed at last to move it.</p><p>She paused, a terrible grief in her eyes. Reaching out to stroke his jaw, she murmured, "I love you, Zuko. Never forget."</p><p>Her hands pulled away, brushing back the edges of her sleeves, and then, taking his, she lifted something from the edge of the bed, placing the cool wood edge into his palm, closing his fingers around it and pressing tight, as if she could imprint herself on him, as though she could somehow leave a piece of herself there with him. As she turned away, she gave him a reassuring smile.</p><p>It was the saddest smile he'd ever seen.</p><p>Then she was walking away; and the last thing that Zuko remembered was watching her lift a hood over her face, her form fading from view as his eyes drifted shut.</p><hr/><p>The darkness was her only companion, cloaking her hooded form as she slipped through the empty corridors that she'd called home for the last ten years of her life. Night cast a spell on the palace. Every painting and hallway she ghosted past coming alive with memories. How strange that these walls, lavish with the gaudy opulence she'd despised since she'd first laid eyes on it, now held countless memories of the past she was abandoning.</p><p>Ten years ago, she would have been glad. Wouldn't have hesitated for a moment. Even now, despite everything, a part of her <em>was</em> glad, at least a little. She'd never really wanted this existence, and the bitter joy of freedom ate at her guilt.</p><p>Ten years ago, she didn't have children.</p><p>An eerie calm settled over her as she found her way from one child's room to the other. Silencing, but not steadying that roiling pit of fear in her belly. She'd done everything in her power to shelter her son from the harsh realities of his existence, from his father's dismissal and the scorn it evoked in everyone around him. Zuko was <em>her </em>child, there was no question. He was everything she could ever have wanted in a son. More than she dared to hope for, in the long nights between her betrothal to his father and Zuko’s birth.</p><p><em>He has </em>my <em>heart. And my eyes. </em>If that knowledge gave her a victorious flash of pride, who could blame her? Her husband might banish her, deprive her of her children, might hold every conceivable edge of power over her, but on the most important battlefield, he had lost to her long before he ever knew they were fighting.</p><p>Ozai only ever saw what Zuko lacked. Ferocity of spirit meant nothing to him without a streak of ruthlessness and cruelty as deep and cold as his own. And <em>that</em>, she’d done her best to ensure, he could never instill.</p><p>Certainly, their son had his faults. Emotional, short-tempered, and rash, all she could do was pray she’d done enough, guided him enough, that eventually he would grow up. That he would learn to control those impulses and use them, rather than letting them rule his hot little head. Still, he had a strong sense of justice, and he cared deeply about others despite everything. She didn’t think it was a terrible mix of circumstances. Yet to Ozai, all at best undesirable and embarrassing.</p><p>She could never leave him too long without Iroh or Lu Ten around to watch him. She hadn’t dared in years. Not with the memory of the way fury had burned under her tongue after the first time Ozai had overseen Zuko’s firebending training, when she’d found the burns and bruises under his clothes afterwards.</p><p>He’d only just begun to bend. They’d thought he wouldn’t for so long. How could he <em>beat up</em> a child as though he were a training dummy, then be angry at him for being unable to defend himself from a master bender’s attacks? And how much had that one fight sabotaged his son’s confidence in learning his own element? In himself?</p><p>She’d wanted to kill him that night. They didn’t speak again for months, after the fight. Her lip curled with anger at that, hatred for her fool of a husband rushing through her.</p><p>
  <em>Husband no longer.</em>
</p><p>After this night, she would be princess of this palace no more.</p><p>Guilty relief, at that. The proof was carefully tucked in her bodice, the dissolution of their marriage signed and witnessed by a Fire Sage Shiyu, whom Ozai had found somehow or other and blackmailed. One copy for her, another to be buried in the royal archives, where no one who didn’t know to look would find it.</p><p>She had neither need nor desire to keep any mementos of it. Honestly, she was surprised he’d agreed; it would have been all too like him to chain her to him in their separation. Members of the royal family could still be legally executed for adultery, even if it were a law that no one had invoked in centuries. But then again, that sword would cut both ways.</p><p>And now here she was, about to commit murder and abandon her children and country. Maybe Azula was wrong, maybe Azulon had only meant to force Ozai to give Zuko up, so that Iroh could adopt Zuko as his own heir. Line adoptions were almost unheard of, but they were certainly possible.</p><p>Ozai didn’t seem to think so, and Ursa could not risk waiting till it was too late to learn the truth.</p><p><em>Not my son. You took me from my home, from my family. You will take me from my children, but I will </em>never<em> allow you to hurt them.</em></p><p>She’d known what Ozai wanted. If Azulon were to die before Iroh came home, people could be pressured…arrangements could be made to ensure the younger son would sit on the throne. Bitterly, she shook her head. She had never loved her father in law. It would be all too easy, with the bitterness simmering under her skin, to do what she’d proposed.</p><p>She wanted only two things in return. Her freedom, and Ozai’s pledge that her children would be kept safe and unharmed. All she had left to do were to say her goodbyes before she fulfilled her part of the bargain. Then she could leave this place, and the sickening memory of what she was about to do.</p><p>Where would she even go?</p><p>Even if she could go back to her parents, she didn’t think she could stomach it. How could she return to her old life and try to live as though none of it had happened? How could she forget her parents giving her away to Azulon, buying the Fire Lord’s favor with an Avatar’s bloodline? Or how they’d abandoned her to him, had never come to see her or answered her letters or met her children?</p><p>They had sacrificed her, and forgotten her, and she would not now throw herself on so shallow a hope of mercy. No sooner than she would forget how deeply their betrayal had cut.</p><p>She would keep nothing of them, she’d decided. Not even the antique Blue Spirit mask that they’d sent as her wedding present. So what if her mother had remembered her love of theater, of romance and mystery? The memory was a poison. She’d left it with Zuko. Only the hope that for him it would be a treasure rather than a reminder of her shackles had kept her from pitching it into the flames. He deserved some keepsake. Come morning, his precious heart would be broken, and nothing she did or said could change it.</p><p>
  <em>If only I had more to give.</em>
</p><p>With every moment, the wild desire to snatch her babies up and carry them away with her into the night gnawed at her. For their sakes, she could not, and it was the sting of that knowledge that kept her from acting on her impulse. She would never escape with both, not alive. Ozai would hunt them all to the ends of the earth rather than allow her to abscond with his heirs. She might, just <em>might</em>, get away with one…but which? How could she abandon one for the other? And worse, which would need her more?</p><p>Zuko was her love, her light. The one ray of joy in the hopeless situation she'd been forced into. A boy with <em>her</em> heart. And despite everything Ozai had put him through, he had kept that brightness alive.</p><p>So little came to him naturally; for everything that was expected of him as the firstborn son of Prince Ozai. A runner-up for the succession of the throne, yet until Lu Ten’s death, far enough removed that he would be sent away to the Earth Kingdom campaign, or perhaps, one day, to lay siege to the North Pole, when he was old enough to fight. He struggled desperately to attain any sort of grasp on the subject. He was an average firebender; had yet to show any signs of the power his ancestry should have granted him. Military tactics and political nuance were all but lost on him. And he hadn’t been raised to be crown prince, hadn’t been educated for politics or sovereignty. In essence, Zuko was in every way a very normal child. But instead of allowing normalcy to define him, he still fought to become <em>more</em>. He <em>was</em> strong, in his own way, no matter what poison his rat-viper of a father spat.</p><p>But Azula…</p><p>Ozai had set his hand on her almost as soon as she was born. Swept her away from her dolls and playmates to the training grounds, shaping her to be a warrior, instead of a girl. If he could not have a worthy heir in Zuko, he'd said, he would <em>make</em> one of Azula.</p><p>Her daughter, despite her youth, despite her quirks, and despite her sometimes downright sadistic behavior, was absolutely brilliant, talented, and beautiful. Gifted. She would change the world, someday. But her father's influence was already obvious. While Ursa had won Zuko’s heart, Ozai had taken Azula’s.</p><p>No. He would make her his minion, his accomplice, his tool. And maybe someday, he would let her succeed him. But he would shred any humanity and decency she possessed to achieve his ends and break her heart without a moment's hesitation. And she'd never once question whether he had the right to do it. Because Azula loved Ozai, damn him to the ends of the earth. If her father commanded it, then it must be right.</p><p>It was Azula who she ought to spirit away. But of the two, it was Azula who would be hunted more determinedly. The slightest mistake would cost them everything, and they’d never know a moment’s peace again. Not to mention, she'd never quite been able to find a way to connect with her daughter, and if Azula hesitated at all, if she looked back even once, it would be the end of both of them.</p><p>Not to mention, Ozai would be sure to exact vengeance on whichever of her children she left behind. Could she sacrifice Zuko in the hopes of giving Azula a brighter future? Or Azula, for Zuko's heart?</p><p>
  <em>No. I can't. Save all, and I will save none. Save one, and I damn the other. Save none, and I abandon them all.</em>
</p><p>She couldn't choose, and it broke her heart.</p><p>Ursa swept silently through Azula's door, pausing for a moment to admire the eight-year-old's already graceful form one last time, as the princess lay dreaming, oblivious to the nightmare becoming reality. She seated herself on the side of the bed, brushing aside glossy black locks to place a kiss on her brow, to embrace the little girl who would never know she needed it. A tear trickled slowly down her cheek, as she suddenly realized she'd likely never know the woman her daughter would grow up to be.</p><p>
  <em>My darling. I wish you knew how much I love you. I should have tried harder to show you. To understand you. And I will regret it to my last breath. I never dreamed one day I’d inflict the same wounds my parents did on you. I wish I’d realized before it was too late.</em>
</p><p>Gently, she laid her head back on the pillow. Slowly unpinning the crown from her hair, she tucked the golden piece in Azula's slackened fingers.</p><p>"Goodnight, love," she whispered, standing. "Goodbye."</p><p>And Ursa vanished into the night.</p><hr/><p>Zuko woke slowly, the hazy feeling from before slowly retreating to the corners of his mind. He lay still, letting the feeling seep back into his limbs. Slowly, pieces of what had taken place that night began to come back to him.</p><p>
  <em>Father asked Grandfather to disinherit Uncle Iroh!</em>
</p><p>And Azula seemed to think that Father was going to punish <em>him</em> for it. She'd come into his room, taunting him; that must be why he'd gone to sleep in his clothes.</p><p>An image of his mother's slim figure retreating into the darkness flashed through his mind.</p><p><em>That was a weird dream</em>, he thought, distantly. A long moment later, his hand brushed against a hard surface. He sat up, lifting the object in both hands and studying the eerie blue and white grin carved into the wooden mask.</p><p>
  <em>I shouldn’t have this. This shouldn’t be here.</em>
</p><p>"Mom?" he called, confusion and fear cracking his voice. No one answered. "Mom!" He threw his covers aside; jumped off the bed and ran for the door. <em>"Mom!"</em></p><p>Zuko tore down the hallway; he couldn't see anything except her face, couldn't feel anything but the wood clutched in his desperate palms, skidding into one of his mother’s sitting rooms. Just yesterday, she’d read Uncle Iroh's letter to him and Azula. It seemed like a lifetime ago.</p><p>Azula leaned against one of the columns. "Where's Mom?"</p><p>"No one knows." She looked away, superiority coloring her voice. "Oh, and last night, Grandpa passed away." Meeting his gaze, she smiled with smug satisfaction. In her hand, his knife was raised like a trophy.</p><p>"Not funny, Azula." He leveled a finger at her. "You're sick. And I want my knife back." Zuko walked towards her demandingly. "Now."</p><p>He reached for his blade, only to have Azula duck away, shoving him against the column. "Who's going to make me?" she asked, in a triumphant, sing-song voice, dangling the knife with her fingertips. "Mom?"</p><p>Zuko stopped. Swallowed back the nauseating horror creeping over him. <em>No.</em> She couldn't be.</p><p>Snatching the knife from her outstretched fingertips, he ran. Forget Azula and her mind games. He had to know.</p><p>His father stood by the pond; staring out over the water. Zuko could not recall ever having seen his father here before. He stopped short, fists clenched.</p><p>"Where is she?"</p><p>Ozai said nothing; didn't even glance at him.</p><p>Zuko bowed his head, finally succumbing to the grief and shock pulsing through him.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gone.</em>
</p><p>He didn't remember walking away. Couldn't recall how he'd made his way back to his room; or what he'd done afterwards.</p><p>
  <em>How long has it been?</em>
</p><p>He didn't know.</p><p>It seemed to Zuko as though he'd been walking around in a daze since he'd woken, not really registering anything. The servants pushed him where he needed to be, changed him into the clothes for his grandfather's funeral and his father's coronation. He didn't have to think, to speak. He wasn't sure he could have.</p><p>When he came back to his senses, he was kneeling on the ground next to Azula, both dressed in mourning white.</p><p>
  <em>These clothes were supposed to be for Lu Ten’s funeral.</em>
</p><p>"...Fire Lord to our nation for 23 years,” the head sage droned. “You were our fearless leader in the battle of Garsai; our matchless conqueror of the Hu Xin provinces. You were father of Iroh, father of Ozai. Husband of Ilah, now passed. Grandfather of Lu Ten, now passed. Grandfather of Zuko and Azula."</p><p>Zuko started at his name, then lowered his head in respect.</p><p>Grandfather Azulon lay prone atop his casket, when just yesterday he'd been seated proudly on the throne of the Fire Nation.</p><p><em>Where is Uncle Iroh?</em>  he thought, dull worry niggling at him. <em>They can't crown the new Fire Lord if he isn't here, can they?</em></p><p>The head Sage approached the casket, the royal crown held in his upraised hands. "We lay you to rest, as was your dying wish."</p><p>Two of the lower sages, all dressed in white, set the body aflame, and Father knelt before the head sage, head bowed.</p><p>"You are now succeeded by your…second son."</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>The sage placed the crown in Ozai's topknot. Stepping away respectfully, he cried, "Hail Fire Lord Ozai!"</p><p>Zuko blinked in shock. The world spun slightly, and he clenched his fists tightly to stop the shivering.</p><p>Ozai stood as all of his subjects knelt before him, faces to the ground. Azula’s movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he followed her lead, crouching on his knees beside her. He glanced at his sister, utterly lost; but the look on her face only of triumph. Zuko looked away, unable to hide the fear and confusion swimming in his wide eyes.</p><p>He didn’t understand what had changed, or how, but he knew deep in his bones that something had been lost, and as the answering roar of the kneeling crowd echoed hollowly in his ears, he knew deep in his bones that the future had just grown immeasurably colder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>She was born to eternal ice and snow and ocean, but sometimes there was <em>nothing</em> colder than Katara's heart. An emptiness lay there, a barren stretch of wasteland that ran deeper than her consciousness and could never be touched by the rays of the sun. It hurt at night, a line of physical pain that ran from the exact center of her chest down to her belly.</p><p>A line <em>exactly</em> like the one that she had watched as it was carved into her mother.</p><p>Sometimes, late on moonless nights, the ocean would tug at her heart until she struggled out of her furs and into her parka and slipped out to the edge of the ice, and listened to the waves roar an echo of her pain back to her. Awakening the dull roar in her mind, numbing her entire body until all she felt was the enormity of her loss and her hate.</p><p>It frightened her, how much she hated. The feelings were too big for her body, bigger than herself or even her own pain. Too much for her to contain. Too raw and terrifying to examine under the watchful eye of Tui. The moon and ocean balanced each other, but Katara had lost her gravitational force, her <em>mother</em>, and there was no balance to the forces that pushed and pulled at her. Only the cold rage of La on the darkest nights could understand her.</p><p>And no one could see it in her. She hated all of them for it.</p><p>How could the world go on after a betrayal of this magnitude? Such an evil, unavenged? How could Gran-Gran and Dad and Sokka look at her and only remember lists of chores they needed her to do, and not remember her pain or recognize her rage?</p><p>It was wrong and there was no <em>justice</em> and it gnawed at her insides till she thought she might go insane. She wished the stars would go out. There shouldn't be beauty in a world so terrible.</p><p>Snow crunched under her feet as she wound her way to the edge of the ice, eyes on the inky black of the sky. She didn't need to look to know where she was going. Habit and the tug of the water told her feet where to go as she sought the solace of the nighttime seas.</p><p>"Katara," a low voice hissed. She whirled, blood freezing in her veins. Sokka stood behind her, wolftail sticking out at an odd angle as he struggled to pull his parka over his torso. "What are you doing?"</p><p>She blinked, studying him for a long moment. "…nothing."</p><p>"Really. You sneak out in the middle of the night all the time to do nothing." Still whispering, the sarcasm was plain. Katara bristled; this was <em>her</em> time to herself and he had no right to invade it, to take it away from her, to make her take care of him and tell him that everything would be okay even with the bloodthirsty cries of the deepest currents echoing in her ears.</p><p>"It's none of your business. I don't owe you an explanation of everything I do! Can't you just leave me alone for once?"</p><p>Sokka sighed. "Look. I'm sorry if it really bothers you. But I know you've been sneaking around and…I just want to be sure you're okay."</p><p><em>Okay? How could I be okay?</em> But he looked at her with a sadness that told her he's <em>seeing</em> her right now, and that quelled some of her fury. "You can come with me, if you want," she managed.</p><p>They didn't speak until both of them sat at the edge of the water. Staring out over hungry waves as black as the sky, Sokka reached over and placed his gloved hand in hers.</p><p>"Do you ever feel like our family is falling apart, since Mom died?"</p><p>The question cracked her fractured heart open wide. "Every day," she whispered, tears slowly gathering in her eyes. Icy wind nipped at their faces, whipping her hair wildly and cutting off any speech.</p><p>When it died down, she buried her face in his shoulder, and buried the hate in her heart.</p><p>She would hold them all together. For her brother.</p><p>For their mother.</p><p>And she <em>would</em> find something to believe in, that would let her believe the world could be good again. Something that would bring back justice. Something that could save the world. Somehow.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>A whole year.</em>
</p><p>Bitterness throbbed in his chest, that slow boiling rage that had slowly kindled in the pit of his stomach over the last twelve months. One year, since Lu Ten died, since Grandfather died, since <em>Mother-</em></p><p>Fists clenched, he bit down on the fury, forcing all that hate out through his fists as he threw himself into yet another drill. If it took him a hundred years, he would become a master. He <em>wouldn't</em> fail Father.</p><p>
  <em>Not like I failed Mom.</em>
</p><p>His hands shook, and the flames flared higher, surprising his tutor, who looked momentarily pleased at the increased power, but soon, as always, displeased with the loss of control.</p><p>Fire was precise and deadly. Not sloppy and wild. Not like <em>Zuko</em>. A low growl filled his lungs as he forced his hands to steady. <em>My fault, all my fault, wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough, why, why, why-</em></p><p>-and his back hit the pavement. His teacher had kicked his feet out from under him. A scream of fury and pain erupted from his lungs.</p><p>"Again."</p><p>His eyes narrowed. If that sour old gasbag thought he couldn't hear the disdain in his voice, he was dead wrong. His fingers itched and he longed to just rush him and scream and punch and burn the condescension off the weasel-rat's face.</p><p>But instead he pushed himself to his feet, swallowed a ragged breath, and froze. <em>Father.</em></p><p>The Fire Lord's lip curled in obvious disgust at Zuko's performance, watching silently from across the training grounds. Watching, but not approaching.</p><p>The only times they spent in each other's company were when he and Azula were called to take their meals with their father. Any attempted conversation on his part was met with stony silence or a harsh rebuke. Not that Zuko had been trying. He didn't have much to say. So why was he here now? Ozai <em>knew</em> his tutors' schedules.</p><p>
  <em>He must have come to see me? And I disappointed him.</em>
</p><p>Burning with shame, he swallowed the fear that always lumped in his throat whenever his father appeared, straightened, and focused.</p><p>With that slight push of energy, flames sprung to life in his palms, and Zuko twisted, determined. <em>Have to get this right. Have to show him I'm good enough-</em></p><p>His feet were kicked out from under him again. The side of his head met smoothly paved stone, and blinding white lights danced across his eyes.</p><p>His vision cleared to see that scowl - the one that said <em>worthless failure -</em> deepen, and the Fire Lord swept away without a word.</p><p>If Zuko had had a heart left to break, he was sure it would have shattered.</p><hr/><p>The next day, Ozai was back. Silently observing. Never speaking. Leaving once Zuko had humiliated himself enough.</p><p>And the day after. On and on.</p><p>The prince splashed cold water over his face, staring distantly at his blank-faced reflection in the mirror. At first, he’d been terrified by the audience. His father had never found anything but fault in his performance. Part of him was still afraid Father would take up his training again himself; even all these years later he recalled the first and only time with nothing short of terror. But since the Fire Lord had begun these detached inspections of his son’s abilities, nearly six months later by now, his father hadn't said a word about it.</p><p><em>Granted</em>, Zuko thought bluntly, drying his skin and wandering into the adjoining room in search of a clean tunic<em>, that means that he never says anything</em>. But that was his own fault. <em>Father wouldn't ignore me if I didn't keep proving every moment there’s nothing to ignore. At least he’s</em> <em>present.</em> <em>That’s more than I deserve.</em></p><p>And it might be a cold, unwelcoming presence, but it was enough to make him hope. Hope made him struggle ever harder. As time had dragged by, the prince had found himself so desperate for some reassurance, some contact that would let him know for sure where he stood, he would gladly take a pounding over the emptiness and silence.</p><p>The Fire Lord said nothing. But he still kept watching.</p><p><em>Maybe…maybe he wants to believe I could be good? </em>Zuko dared to wonder, fastening the clasps of his collar and tying his belt. He wanted to believe it. So, <em>so</em> badly. <em>After all</em>, <em>I’m heir to the throne now. It only makes sense that he’d want to know whether his eventual successor will be worthy.</em></p><p>He clung to that desperate, logic-defying sentiment like a drowning man. Sure, it <em>hurt</em> to hope, but it was all that kept him from sinking into the rage and bitterness that tore at the edges of his consciousness. And what did it hurt, if he thought perhaps Father’s frowns weren’t as deep as they were before? If he could <em>almost</em> pretend they were happy?</p><p>A rap at the door distracted him from his disjointed thoughts, a servant in red and gold robes bowing respectfully. “Your highness. I’ve come to inform you that a message from General Iroh has been delivered to the palace. The Dragon of the West sends word of his impending arrival.”</p><p>Zuko nearly tripped, surprise and a touch of anxiety knocking him off balance. Nodding his thanks, he brushed past the messenger, determined not to be late for the evening meal with his father and sister. It was almost six months and a year to the day of his father’s coronation, and Uncle Iroh hadn’t been seen or heard from in all that time.</p><p>
  <em>Will he challenge Father? Why has he been away so long? Why come back now?</em>
</p><hr/><p>"Took him long enough," Azula sniffed at her glass. "He probably got lost on a detour looking for some Earth Kingdom tea farm."</p><p>Zuko slammed his cup down on the dinner table, clenching his fists. "You don't know anything."</p><p>Ozai's frown deepened.</p><p>"Neither do you, Zuzu<em>,</em>" Azula returned, lifting an egg roll with her chopsticks, and inspecting it critically before taking a dainty bite. "Everyone knows Uncle's just a delusional old man."</p><p>"<em>Delusional</em>?" Zuko cried, half-standing in indignation. "His son <em>died!</em> But you wouldn't understand that, would you?" Rage boiled through his veins, and words came tumbling from his lips. "You're not human enough to feel anything for anyone besides yourself, let alone to grieve. If anyone's delusional, it's <em>you</em>!"</p><p>In a blink of an eye, Ozai was standing over him, yanking him off his feet. Zuko paled, stumbling as the back of his father's hand connected with his face.</p><p>"You," hissed Ozai, lifting him into the air by the front of his tunic, and pressing him against the wall, "have no place to correct her. Princess Azula is a prodigy; everything you could never hope to be. She was born lucky."</p><p>He leaned close, so close Zuko trembled in fear. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "<em>You</em> were lucky to be born."</p><p>As suddenly as he had grabbed him, Ozai released his son. Zuko collapsed to the floor, white and trembling. He pressed a shaking hand to his cheek, his jaw working silently, not daring to look up.</p><p>Azula's face mirrored his own. For a moment, even her hands were unsteady. She recovered swiftly, though, folding her hands primly in her lap and covering the nervousness in her eyes with a triumphant smile at her older brother.</p><p>The Fire Lord walked away without another glance.</p><hr/><p>Not deigning to bother with the tediousness of greeting a brother he'd never held any sort of affection for, Ozai left Zuko and Azula to deal with welcoming the incoming ship. They stood side-by-side at the dock, dressed in full armor. Neither spoke.</p><p>Zuko tugged at the end of his sleeve, stretching the fabric over the faint bruise on his wrist. He didn't tell her how he'd gotten it. She didn't ask. She didn't need to. She was Azula; she knew everything.</p><p>She hadn't said anything then either, when she'd taken his wrists and pulled him to his feet, leading him to her rooms. She'd pushed him onto the bed and pressed ice against the swelling on his cheek without so much as a murmur. Only smirked a little as she applied her concealer to the bruise, hiding the dark purple blotch with her makeup after the swelling had gone down. And then taken him back to his room and locked the door behind her as she left without even giving him her usual unsettling, <em>"Goodnight, Zuko".</em></p><p>In the week since the outburst at the table, the bruise on his cheek had faded; but the damage was far from done. Father had commanded Azula to train with him after his teacher's instruction every day, and she never hesitated to grind him into the dust beneath her heel.</p><p>There was an unspoken acknowledgement between them that nothing less was expected.</p><p>If she didn't, maybe Father would do it himself. That terrified him far, far more.</p><p>Zuko was only grateful that at least he could cover these bruises and burns with his clothes. Azula ripped him to shreds, but she stuck to the rules of what areas of contact were allowed faithfully. He supposed it was another way of showing off; she didn't need to manipulate or trick or cheat to trounce him. She saved those to use at her own leisure, for her and Mai and Ty Lee's amusement.</p><p>But after their father had gone, every day, she always pulled him back to his feet. Always led him away quietly and played doctor, bandaging up the worst of him. And if she always managed to pinch him or rub the disinfectant significantly harder into his scrapes than strictly necessary, well, that was just Azula. If it were anyone other than his sister, he would have said it was because she actually did care about him.</p><p>But this was Azula. He honestly had no idea why she would look after him now.</p><p>She never wanted his comfort or to give him her confidence. There were walls both of them knew not to try to cross.</p><p>But still. He did love her.</p><p>Azula tsked irritably, tapping her foot and drawing him back to reality. She was always so impatient; always indignant at having to wait on someone else's whim. Zuko ignored her, squinting at the horizon. If he looked very, very closely, he thought he could make out a tiny little smudge. "There," he cried. "The ship's there."</p><p>His sister tossed her head, not bothering to look up and picking at her nails. "Well, it's about time."</p><p>Zuko rolled his eyes. <em>Some things never change.</em></p><hr/><p>They knelt in unison as the deck lowered, one knee bent, heads inclined respectfully. The ship's crew filed out, forming two columns, between which General Iroh descended.</p><p>"Prince Zuko. Princess Azula." Uncle extended his arms. "It does a weary old soul more good than you know to see you."</p><p>They rose, Zuko stepping forward to meet his embrace, while Azula stood back, not bothering to put much effort into masking her disdain.</p><p><em>Don't touch me, disgusting old man. </em>She wasn't fond of Uncle. Or hugs.</p><p>Iroh lay his hands on Zuko's shoulders, ignoring his niece's slight. "Look how you've grown!"</p><p>Zuko tried to smile; but he was a terrible liar in every way. She knew from Uncle's expression that he'd seen right past it. Straightening, he released his nephew. "We should go inside. I've been dying for a good cup of ginseng tea."</p><p>Iroh took him firmly by the arm, wrapping his other around Azula as he walked by. "And you, my niece! Like the flower of a White Dragon bush in blossom." She stiffened, biting back a snap, and forcing herself not to jerk her arm away as Uncle led them towards the palace.</p><p>After all, it wouldn't do to show dysfunction- let alone weakness -before their subjects.</p><p>Her mind wandered away as they proceeded through the main thoroughfare of the caldera, where many of the city's subjects had gathered in respect for the returning general, to the letter she'd left half written in her chambers. Mai was stuck with her lowly parents for the winter holidays and had begged her to stay in touch; <em>"or else I might kill myself from boredom."</em></p><p>She would be fine, Azula knew. That was just how Mai talked. <em>Besides, it's a nice counterbalance to Ty Lee's constant cheer. I'm not sure even I could put up with two Ty Lees.</em></p><p>That was lucky for Ty Lee, too. She wanted nothing more than to be away from her sisters, her sense of gravity and flexibility made even Azula a little jealous, and the budding acrobat's unflinching admiration soothed that unease in her mind that came somewhere close to hurting whenever she thought very much about Mother.</p><p>Zuko didn't know she'd left Azula her crown. He would never know she had it. If he found out, he would try to <em>take</em> it from her, and that wouldn't be fair. As if he deserved every last memento of her simply because she'd loved him the most. He'd had <em>all</em> of Mother's love, and all of her attention, and she'd abandoned both of them for <em>him</em>.</p><p>
  <em>She was my mother too.</em>
</p><p>The simple little hairpiece was the only thing her mother had ever given just to <em>her</em>. Zuko couldn't have it.</p><p>
  <em>Not that it means anything. It's just a piece of metal. A trinket for Mommy's little monster.</em>
</p><p>She couldn't quite convince herself that it didn't, though. That hurt more, that she still cared enough for it to matter to her.</p><p>She sighed, wondering what Father would tell Uncle when he asked what happened to Mother. <em>Certainly not the truth.</em> Even she hadn't pieced all of it together, though she knew far more than stupid, clueless Zuzu. And she would find out the rest, even if it took her a decade.</p><p>And, well, maybe if Zuzu behaved, and served her well after Father made her his true heir, she'd give him a few little tidbits. Just as a treat, now and then. He was always such a softhearted little mommy's boy. Making him squirm was her job.</p><p>Though if she guessed right, that game was going to become much more challenging now that Uncle Fatso was on the playing field. He was a lot like Mother, in that way. They both had always seemed to have a knack for seeing right through her.</p><p>She was more than up to the match, though.</p><p>
  <em>Welcome home, Uncle. Don't get too curious, or Father might decide you're just as expendable as she was.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Empty Graves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gaipan was such a small settlement that when she’d first reached it, Ursa had thought she might be safer to keep traveling till she came across another colony. One with a population large enough that her appearance would not be terribly conspicuous or obvious.</p><p>But traveling alone at night on a continent she’d never set foot on before had every one of her nerves on edge, and she was so bone-deep tired, she’d allowed herself to spend a few coins on a room at the inn.</p><p>She really hadn’t meant to stay. Even taking a meal in the common room of the inn was risking more than was strictly necessary. Ozai had no particular reason to hunt her down, after releasing her with such finality, but should he change his mind, should he begin to worry that the freedom of a woman who’d murdered a Fire Lord was too dangerous to suffer even from a world apart, she wanted to leave no trail for his hunters to follow. She hated feeling like prey.</p><p>But then she’d seen the boy.</p><p>Oh, he wasn’t the right age, and a bit too short. His eyes were darker than Zuko’s and not quite as finely shaped as Azula’s. His features possessed not a single hint of the regal jawline and cheekbones that her own children had inherited. But he had looked around the room with an innocent expression of not-fully-in-this-world concern that was so vary <em>familiar</em>, and the ache in her arms that made her want to sweep back to the Caldera and fold her little prince and princess back into her embrace was nearly unbearable.</p><p>Maybe she shouldn’t have beckoned him over to share her watery dumplings or asked him his name. But she had. And perhaps at first she’d only wanted to be nearer to him because he reminded her so painfully of what she’d lost, but as little Lee chattered in her ear, she quickly began to grow fond of him for his own presence.</p><p>Lee’s father and older brother had been drafted into the war only three days before he began to bend, and his mother didn’t have money to pay a tutor to relocate to Gaipan just to teach him. None of the firebending soldiers garrisoned at the walls of the town had the time or energy to help him, and only the week before he’d nearly started a forest fire by accident. He <em>loved</em> fire, but he couldn’t figure out how to control when he made it, and it was starting to be more scary than wonderful to be covered in burns all the time and his mother flinching at the sight of him; and sometimes he wished he could give it all back to the spirits because he just couldn’t seem to figure out their gift.</p><p>And, well. Ursa had memorized the instructional scrolls on teaching a beginning bender to control their breath and calm their chi, having read it over and again with Zuko tucked in her lap, asking if she’d help him try just one more time to help him find his fire. And her mother had been a master herbalist; she’d begun instructing her in the advanced levels of her craft, before she’d been sent away. She remembered enough to be sure she could tend to Lee’s blistered fingers and teach him at least the beginnings of the art of bending, if his mother would be inclined. And she had, after her son had introduced them, with a thanks that nearly bordered on desperation. So Ursa became Ora, and slowly began to rebuild.</p><p>Though she’d never been blessed with the gift of flames, Lee had bloomed under her instructions. She’d been so proud of him, angry with herself for finding such joy in his triumphs when she was <em>missing</em> her own children’s growing up. How odd her life was, that she’d been forced into a warped sort of mirror version of her own parent’s failures.</p><p>It hurt to remember the look on her mother’s face, turning away when the Fire Lord’s escort came to collect her. Not quite as much as knowing that she’d given her up so that her sisters could live in peace. Azulon had had only one extra son to marry off, after all.</p><p>She could only blink back the tears and pray Zuko and Azula would forgive her for wounding them the exact same way.</p><p>After a time, she’d opened a small healing practice, and sent away for copies of more advanced firebending instructions with bits of her savings. It was a happy enough sort of life, for a time. Until a new garrison was stationed, and officer’s wives relocated with them. One in particular, after her first visit, began mentioning how in Hira’a, her cousin’s village, there was the daughter of an incredible herbalist who’d passed on a few years ago, now managing her mother’s gardens and healing beds. Pondered in passing how remarkably similar Mistress Shaina looked to their own Ora.</p><p>The day she heard the first whisper of <em>“I heard that Mistress Shaina had an older sister once, more beautiful and even more gifted. Only one day, the Fire Lord came to visit, and the sister disappeared as though she had never been,” </em>she knew it was time to leave.</p><p>She said goodbye to Lee in broad daylight, though. She couldn’t relive that experience again.</p><p>She wound her way through three different colonies before she dared give her name as Ora again.</p><hr/><p>Most firebenders begin bending fairly young. By four or five, people usually know if a child is a bender or not. Young enough that most benders don’t remember what it was like to live without it.</p><p>Zuko had been seven, and Azula had already been throwing sparks and setting the sheets on fire for an entire <em>year.</em> A year of unending misery for him, jealousy and frustration at his younger sister being <em>better</em> than him, more loved by their father, more admired by the nobility and their children. But because he had been so old when he first bent, he could still <em>remember </em>what it had been like.</p><p>He’d been so <em>cold</em>. Nothing could warm him entirely, not even laying in the sun for hours on end, or Azula setting his bed curtains on fire while he slept. It had dragged on for months, till he almost couldn’t remember what it had been like not to feel as though his heart was freezing from the inside out. Then he’d slowly begun to lose his mind if he wasn’t near an open flame for more than a short period of time, becoming shaky and unfocused. Eventually even that wasn’t enough, there was something he <em>needed</em> that he couldn’t get at, an energy that he didn’t know how to release. It had built up inside him until he was crying with frustration, unable to explain what was wrong, driven to burn his fingers reaching into the flames again and again.</p><p>Everyone had thought he was just trying to get attention. To distract from Azula’s brilliance.</p><p>Until one day he reached for the fire and when he drew back his hand, a tiny flame came away with it. He’d sat, entranced for hours, cradling it between his palms.</p><p>He couldn’t imagine it was possible that there could be a more incredible experience in the world than it had been to <em>feel</em> that tiny little flame live in the space between his fingers for the first time, living off of his energy. Feeling a <em>warmth</em> in his soul ignite, warmth that had never left him since.</p><p>But he could never remember the awe of that day without the terror of the next.</p><p>It must have been because Father was so overjoyed that Zuko was <em>finally</em> bending, the embarrassment of a non-bending firstborn son removed at last. Or so he had always reasoned. He had simply been…overexcited. Had simply been pushing him too hard before he was ready, out of a desire to see him succeed at long last, wanting to see something like the sort of son a man like Prince Ozai deserved in. After all, it was so utterly unlikely by then for it to have happened, for Zuko to bend fire, that Father had likely just overlooked the fact that Zuko hadn’t been given a lick of training beyond the breath control and concentration techniques he’d been shown over and over again through the years, back when they’d still hoped enough to try to coerce his connection to his element into reality.</p><p>And he hadn’t stopped until Zuko couldn’t move anymore because he really thought if Zuko would just <em>try</em> hard enough he’d be able to make up for all the lost time.</p><p><em>But Mom was angry. </em>He couldn’t remember ever seeing her angrier than when the servants summoned her to his side in the royal physician’s quarters. That was the clearest memory he had of those moments, followed only by those after she had left his side to find Azula and bring her.</p><p><em>"If it were anyone else, if you were anyone else,” </em>the physician had muttered darkly, so low Zuko still wasn’t sure he was meant to hear at all, <em>“I would report him to the authorities. I've seen this more than enough times to know what it is. But Prince Ozai is just that. A prince. My word against his. And who would believe some crotchety old doctor over the Fire Lord’s son?"</em></p><p>He’d furrowed his brow, confused. <em>"But it's not just your word. You have me. And what would you report Father for?"</em></p><p><em>"You really are that naïve. I don’t know whether to pity you or envy you.” </em>The chuckle was mirthless. He’d pasted ointment over swathes of singed skin, wrapping up his arms in white gauze. <em>“Listen, your highness. I know this is a lot to ask of anyone, especially someone as young as you. But you can't ever tell anyone about what your father does to you."</em></p><p>
  <em>"Not even my mom?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not if she doesn’t already know. Don’t go volunteering information that isn’t directly asked for. If she finds out on her own, all well and good, nothing to be done. But the last thing you need is for Prince Ozai to suspect that you're telling tales."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Why?"</em>
</p><p>The doctor had just sighed, more deeply this time. <em>"Listen; there are some things that you just can't understand at your age, no matter how hard you try. You're an okay kid, your highness. I don't want to have to live to see your name on a gravestone. You just do whatever you have to do to cover up those bruises and hope for the best. Trust me; at this point the worst thing that could happen is for people to find out."</em></p><p>Then Mother had come back, and he’d fallen into restless sleep, pondering.</p><hr/><p>The words echoed in Zuko's mind as Uncle Iroh caught his arm at the entrance to the dining room. <em>You can't ever tell anyone about what your father does to you.</em> Wondering what the old physician would’ve said about the things Ozai made Azula and he do to each other, he braced himself, already sure he knew what his uncle was about to ask.</p><p>"Prince Zuko. Are you…alright?" The undercurrent of worry in his voice was plain as day.</p><p>"Of course. I'm fine," he heard himself say. Felt himself smile reassuringly. Knew he looked strained. There could be servants anywhere around them, listening ears that could bring reports of any hint of rebelliousness back to Father. The palace wasn’t a place to speak of private things. Especially not things like these. As their father, let alone as Fire Lord, he had every right to do as he pleased with his children; Zuko owed him the respect of submitting to whatever he willed. What would confiding in Uncle about how he felt about some of it do except prove he was only an ungrateful and dishonorable son? On top of which, surely Uncle <em>knew</em> all of that? Maybe it was a test. He desperately hoped he’d passed.</p><p>The general studied him carefully for a long moment; then released him. They stepped into the dining room; Zuko silently wishing Uncle would have pressed him about it. Wishing he didn't have to lie.</p><p>
  <em>The worst thing that could happen is for people to find out.</em>
</p><p>Steeling himself, he took his seat across from Azula as Fire Lord Ozai entered the room.</p><p>The meal passed mostly in silence. Iroh's quiet questions about his niece and nephew's well-being and the general state of affairs being met with concise, pointed answers. This didn’t seem to bother him too much, as he merely turned his attention to complimenting every last dish on the table. Zuko kept his mouth shut, pushing his food around his plate, eyes fastened to the table in front of him. Internally, he begged for the awkward gathering to be dismissed without incident; he doubted Father would make a scene in front of Uncle Iroh, but he was not going to find out if he could help it.</p><p>Finally, Azula stood. "Excuse me, Father, but I believe it's past time for me to retire." Relief flooded him. He quickly shoved his chair back, bowing to his father and uncle.</p><p>"Good night." Zuko fled the room on Azula's heels.</p><hr/><p>It had been many years since Iroh had last seen his nephew, but he couldn't help but notice how skittish and reluctant the prince had become. Always hiding in the shadows, nearly jumping out of his skin whenever anyone approached him. The concern the general had felt when he'd first arrived grew steadily with every encounter, yet the boy wouldn't be pushed or prodded or coaxed into talking about it. It was always averted his eyes and insisted that everything was fine whenever Iroh even brushed the subject. If he dared to press, the stubborn prince would simply shut his mouth.</p><p>
  <em>He certainly has his mother’s backbone.</em>
</p><p>For all that, though, Prince Zuko was a terrible liar. Iroh could see in his nephew's wide golden eyes that something was very, very wrong. Surely, he knew his old Uncle couldn't help him, so long as he refused to help him understand? <em>He's obviously afraid of something, or someone. But who, and why? Who could possibly touch him?</em> </p><p>Iroh paused, realization hitting him. <em>Unless Ozai is involved. </em>He hadn't missed the fact that Zuko had never once spoken or looked at his father during the one meal they'd shared. To be honest, he'd practically run from the room. The old man sighed, shaking his head. Empty speculation wouldn't help either of them. Until Zuko opened up to him, Iroh's best course of action was to let the matter rest. Certainly, he didn't want to run the risk of making the situation any worse than it already was.</p><p>Still, it did his weary old soul good to worry over his skittish nephew. He was here and now, and he needed Iroh somehow, he was sure. That would keep him from falling too deep off the edge of his grief.</p><p>
  <em>Some wounds do not soften with time.</em>
</p><p>Looking around, Iroh swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as the memories stirred in his chest, the painful ache of separation driving his nephew's troubles from his mind. When he closed his eyes he could just see them, his wife and son, walking down these very corridors. Living in these very rooms.</p><p>Iroh lowered his lids, letting the ghosts come to life one more time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Things We Leave Behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW for description of injuries, mention of rape</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Princess!”</p><p>Azula grimaced. <em>Only took her two hundred and sixty-seven seconds to notice this time.</em> Though that was hardly a record for her tutor, she’d been counting on rather more time to make her escape before she broke from her droning lecture on the evolution of Earth Kingdom etiquette among the nobility. <em>As if I’m ever going to have a use for that. Really, it’s concerning that Father wastes time and resources on this sort of useless drivel. Not when I could be using this time to train. </em>Mistress Zhang was less than attentive as an instructor, and given that her lessons were far less crucial- and far easier to escape than Lo and Li’s watchful old crow’s eyes -during these weeks back at the Palace from the Academy, she’d chosen them as her time to enact her more sensitive excursions.</p><p>It was terribly convenient that her window of opportunity happened to occur in the same slot of time. She smirked. <em>I’ve always been the lucky one.</em></p><p>“Oh, excuse me, Mistress,” Azula said sweetly, peeking her head back into the classroom she’d only just slipped out of. “I was just going to use the bathroom. I didn’t say anything earlier, because your lecture was just <em>so engrossing,</em> but I’ve actually been feeling rather unwell all afternoon, and I might need to go to bed, or even to the royal physician afterwards. But with such interesting notes to review,” she waved a handful of papers in her left hand, “do you think I could take the rest of the afternoon to rest and study them in a less stimulating environment? After all, if I don’t have a chance to properly review what I’ve learned, how can I hope to truly internalize the lesson?”</p><p>
  <em>Brows up in innocent concern, saccharine smile, follow it with a faint sigh and brace yourself perceptibly against the doorframe just so, and…perfect.</em>
</p><p>“Oh goodness! Of course, your highness. I’ll spend the rest of today’s lesson preparing the rest of the week’s materials. You <em>must</em> be sure to go to the royal physician and have him examine you! Even the slightest symptom could be indicative of a serious condition developing, and you cannot be too careful with your health, Princess! My own sister could tell you, she-“</p><p>“I’m <em>so</em> grateful you understand,” Azula returned, curtsying to hide her gritted teeth, and slipping away before the words were fully out of her mouth. Bad enough to have her getaway compromised and her time limited further by having to drop by the physician’s office to fake a headache, there was no way she was sticking around to listen to the old ninny prattle on about her sister’s aches and woes.</p><p>No matter. Her focus belonged on the mission at hand.</p><p>It was lucky too that the classrooms were only a hallway or two away from the guest wing. She ducked into an empty room and pulled out the bag hidden inside the bottom drawer of the dresser.</p><p>After drilling herself for two hours the night before, she could change into the Fire Acolyte robes in three minutes flat, and a serving girl’s robe on top of that would get her across the palace to the catacombs without too many questions.</p><p>A quick breath, and a last pat at her hair as she tugged it down into a less identifiable style, and she was off.</p><p><em>Fortune favors the bold. And Father may love me best, but that doesn’t mean he trusts me enough yet to equip me with the knowledge I need to be his perfect weapon. I’ll prove I’m worthy of being his successor. I just need to take a little initiative.</em> Succeed in slipping in with the group of new apprentices on their first assignment to the royal archives, where they would learn their duties in recording, maintaining, and preserving the history and secrets of the Fire Nation, and she’d gain the credentials she needed to maintain access, so long as she was careful.</p><p>She only needed to get lucky once.</p><hr/><p>“No, nephew, your balance is wrong. Let me show you the stance again.” Iroh swallowed the sigh as he stepped up to the prince’s side and fell into a stance. It was <em>deeply</em> concerning how extremely poor Zuko’s mastery of even simple basics were to the weathered general, even after accounting for how late he’d begun bending. Something about it niggled uncomfortably in the back of his mind, a question he couldn’t quite figure out the right angle to be able to approach.</p><p>Too many things about life since the six hundredth day beneath the walls of Ba Sing Se felt that way; especially here. And by the virtue of being here, so many of them remained untouchable. The palace was a rat-viper’s nest, around every corner a thousand invisible poison-arrowed tongues.</p><p>He’d eventually gotten the hint, to stop asking. Some days he wondered if it wouldn’t be better for him to go back to the Earth Kingdom. Soldiers he could lead, open warfare he could lead, but the constant threat of a simple misstep here was no place to be trying to pick up the pieces of the heart of a twelve-year-old boy. As time dragged by, Iroh had yet to see any overt evidence besides the haunted despair in his nephew's eyes that something was deeply wrong in Zuko’s world. And while he wouldn’t dismiss that out of hand, there was so little he could <em>do.</em> Except offer what instruction he could, in any subject he would accept.</p><p>The boy was simply floundering. And to tell the truth, he knew why, deep down.</p><p>
  <em>He wasn’t meant to be the Crown Prince.</em>
</p><p>It was so simple. Ozai was a second son; his children were insurance against a tragedy that no one ever really believed would happen. Had Lu Ten lived, Zuko and Azula would have been sent away to the war as they came of age; either to manage key territories for the Fire Lord, or to take to the battlefield themselves. Positions of honor and privilege, far enough away that they would cause no trouble till their cousin’s rule was eventually settled. Their education was never meant to prepare them to rule; to the contrary, it would’ve been contrary to the interests of the stability of the nation to allow such close contestants to the bloodline to be set up as compelling alternatives.</p><p>Perhaps that was why he’d allowed his son to petition him to come on the campaign. Once his cousins were older, he’d never have the chance to distinguish himself as a warrior on the warfront again. <em>No profession of sorrow can wipe away the guilt and grief that indulgence has birthed.</em></p><p>Yet all of that simply made the sheer neglect of his nephew’s training and education before and since more glaring. Had Ozai thought Zuko’s being a mediocre bender, unable even to defend himself, would keep him from being sent away to the front?</p><p>Or, more chillingly, had his brother simply meant to ensure his son never <em>came back</em> from the war?</p><p>Zuko broke away, shaking Iroh from his disturbed reverie. “I can’t seem to get any of this, Uncle. I’m not like Azula. I don’t have the balance to stay on my feet while moving through these forms. I’ll never be a great bender like you or Father.”</p><p>“Sometimes, Prince Zuko, the strongest warrior is the one who has learned how to pick himself up off his knees and get back into the fight, rather than those who were privileged enough to possess such levels of natural knack and such indulgent teachers that they have never had to fall.”</p><p>Something wounded flickered over Zuko’s face, before he looked away. Iroh’s heart clenched. Biting back the urge to ask, he put a gentle arm around his shoulders. “Perhaps it would be best to take a break. Overworking yourself will not do you any favors; and I have a new blend I’ve been waiting to try. Would you do me the honor of joining me?”</p><p>The answering shrug, with the slightest relaxation into the contact, was consent enough. As they walked through the sunlight on the stone path, the general allowed the worries to retreat to the back of his mind and a soft smile to settle across his face. Zuko hadn’t ever really been the same as he had when he had left for the Earth Kingdom, years ago now, but despite his distance, gradually they’d begun to find their footing and a comfort in their relationship. And perhaps that was inevitable, perhaps this was just a little boy trying to figure out how to go about growing up.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking,” he began carefully, once they had made their way inside and he’d sent a servant to bring the tea things, “that we ought to begin making plans for what to do for your birthday. I thought you might like to pick a public service project to sponsor, so you can begin gaining some hands-on experience in the needs of the people and your responsibilities as their crown prince.”</p><p>Zuko frowned; but it looked more pensive than sulky, and Iroh took that as a very hopeful sign. "So…you're saying I can do anything I want? Anything at all?"</p><p>"Certainly!" He clapped his nephew on the shoulder and beamed. "It's past time you began to learn these things; and I see no reason why you shouldn’t get to pick where you want to start."</p><p>After a long moment of glaring at the rug so determinedly the general half expected it to start smoking, the prince looked up at Iroh. "I want," he said slowly, unsure, "to visit the hospitals."</p><p>He froze. "What?"</p><p>"Like my mom used to."</p><p>The general's bright smile faltered, staring at his nephew in surprise, with a sinking feeling. <em>He’s brought Ursa into it; he’s not going to drop this</em>. "That’s a very noble cause to be sure, although I don't know if you're ready for anything quite so drastic as that…"</p><p>Zuko set his jaw. "I'm supposed to be a man now. You just said it's my duty to look after my people, and since she-" he broke off, squeezing his eyes shut. "I want to see them. It's our duty to show our people that we care about them, and our honor to make sure that our soldiers are taken care of; and the last time I checked, no one has been making the reports to the Fire Lord about the condition of our wounded clinics."</p><p>Sucking in a breath of air, Uncle Iroh squeezed his shoulder again. It had never occurred to him that the boy would have been paying attention to such things. "Yes, that's true, but…"</p><p>"You said I could do anything I wanted," the prince reminded him petulantly.</p><p>"Yes, I did," he conceded, reluctantly.</p><p>Zuko's pale gold eyes opened wide. "You're really going to let me?"</p><p>Iroh let out another deep sigh. "I gave you my word. But Prince Zuko, I beg you to reconsider. There are things that you may not be ready to see. You’re young still, and there is much evil in the world that you’ve been sheltered from till now. You cannot unlearn those things again once you’ve seen them." The prince didn't seem to have heard. He gave his uncle a quick hug. "I will, of course, be there to accompany you on your inspection."</p><p>"Of course! Thank you, Uncle!"</p><p><em>Damn that boy’s puppy eyes. </em>Though, the tea kettle arrived and steeped by now, he was amused to note Zuko drinking his with far more enthusiasm than he normally bothered with. <em>Perhaps he’s not hopelessly tasteless after all.</em></p><hr/><p>Zuko stepped into the ward, and time seemed to slow, his blood freezing in shock. A servant standing to the side announced, belatedly, "All hail Crown Prince Zuko and General Iroh!"</p><p>There was instant silence, every person freezing and every face turning towards them. Some delighted, some sad, some hateful.</p><p>Every face that could, that was.</p><p>Zuko swallowed, white with horror at the gruesome spectacle before him. Men lay slouched in cots lined against the wall, some missing extremities, or even entire limbs. All of them were mutilated in some form or other; disfigured, scarred, and bloodied.</p><p>The room spun slightly. Forcing himself to focus, he nearly jumped when Iroh gripped his hand. "I'm sorry," the old man whispered, his old eyes suddenly seeming as old as their years, "I tried to warn you."</p><p><em>There are some things that you're just not ready to see. </em>He understood.</p><p>Zuko shook himself. <em>I have a duty to these men</em>. Stepping up to the nearest bed, he cleared his throat.</p><p>The man inclined his head slightly and closed his one remaining eye. "Your highness."</p><p>Bowing stiffly, Zuko addressed him. "On behalf of my father, Fire Lord Ozai, I thank you for your sacrifice." He stepped closer, uncertain. "Is there…anything I can do for you?"</p><p>The soldier cracked his eye open, shook his head. A wry expression twisted his mouth as he muttered, "No, boy. Even the Fire Lord, mighty as he may be, can't turn back time."</p><p>Swallowing, Zuko nodded tightly. <em>Sometimes, some things are just too broken to be fixed. </em>That was something he knew all too well, even if none of these people would believe he did.</p><p>"You've got guts coming here," the man continued in an undertone. "More than people seem to give you credit for, at least. But still; a number of people will not be…pleased by your presence here. Quite upset; if you understand me."</p><p>The prince frowned slightly, downcast and detached. "I know."</p><p>"These men have suffered much; and believe it or not, they're the lucky ones. They came back alive. Trust me, Prince Zuko," the soldier said, leaning forward intently, "the <em>best</em> thing you could do for these people is put an end to this spirits-forsaken war before it destroys us all." A nurse rushed forward. pressing her patient back down into his pillow, but he never broke eye contact until the prince nodded grimly in acknowledgement. Zuko bowed again and moved along, his youthful face grim.</p><p><em>How am </em>I <em>supposed to do that? </em>He inhaled sharply, biting back the nausea that rose as he approached the next bed, where a man lay half-paralyzed, his back broken.</p><p>"On behalf of my father, Fire Lord Ozai, I thank you for your sacrifice..."</p><hr/><p>The dim lamplight illuminated the ink of the dusty scrolls Azula had snuck into a shadowy corner to peruse. She felt as though she was on the edge of putting something crucial together; she just needed the key to fall into place.</p><p>
  <em>The questions have always been right in front of me. I just need to learn how to learn to see them again.</em>
</p><p>To know where Mother had gone, she needed to know why. To know why…perhaps she needed to know why she’d been there in the first place.</p><p>
  <em>Why did Father marry her?</em>
</p><p>Granted, she hadn’t exactly been around when they’d first been married. But nothing she’d ever heard of her parent’s stories had ever suggested it had been a union of passion. While that didn’t mean it was <em>impossible</em>, it did seem…unlike Father. He never did anything without a reason. No one ever talked about her family, none of them ever came to visit or answered the letters she and Zuko both knew Mother had written, so they couldn’t have been a particularly lucrative political connection. Sure, she had been beautiful, but surely there were other beautiful noble women.</p><p>She struggled over the questions silently, until the last scroll fell open and the missing piece fell into her lap.</p><hr/><p>Zuko picked at his dinner, pushing the food around his plate. He couldn't bring himself to eat. Noticing his uncle watching him with concern, the prince looked up at him. "I hate pig-chicken."</p><p>It was true, but they both knew it wasn't the reason he refused so much as to taste his food. Iroh nodded, letting it slide, and Zuko could’ve hugged him just for that.</p><p>No matter what he did, he couldn't remove the images from his mind. The dead and dying and broken and lame, all at his feet. All his fault, by proxy. Doctors cutting away dead limbs and peeling back flesh and muscle, exposing beating hearts and fractured bones to the stifled light. Zuko felt sick, as though he'd suddenly for the first time realized that the war was real, that it was happening every moment, and every moment it continued, it continued to blind and twist and cripple.</p><p>When Lu Ten had died, he hadn't really understood. Didn't know what a horror death on the battlefield could be. He'd always thought that it was honorable, to perish in combat. But he hadn't ever really comprehended how gruesome the idea really was.</p><p>Suddenly, he could see his cousin's face on every one of those soldier's broken bodies. Zuko's fists clenched, fighting tears that stung his eyes.<em> I hope he didn't suffer.</em></p><p>Excusing himself, Zuko went to his room, curling up in the blankets.</p><p>He didn't sleep that night.</p><hr/><p>Lia’s heart pounded louder than the slaps of her sandals against the cobblestone. Almost loud enough to numbness echoing inside her head. The old woman leading her jerked her along by the arm when she slowed to glance at the unoccupied street behind them. Who knew how long it would stay empty?</p><p><em>Is it better or worse to know no one is coming for you,</em> she wondered dully, <em>or to be afraid that someone is?</em></p><p>They jolted to a stop outside a nondescript door. The other woman pounded sharply on the door, while she sucked in air, taking in the unimposing structure that stood heavily outlined against the dark sky. She couldn’t decide if it looked more like it wanted to be invisible, or like it wanted to make a point that it was there and wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. A faint answer echoed from within, and without hesitating the old widow who’d led her here pushed the door open and bustled inside.</p><p>After a long moment, Lia stepped over the threshold, and pulled the door firmly closed behind her. <em>Whatever I have to face here, I’d rather it than what’s out there.</em> The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth before she realized she’d bitten down on her tongue. Chastising herself internally, her fingers clenched around the door handle. <em>What I am doing? Why did I ever come anywhere near here? What did I even think was going to happen?</em></p><p>Her train of thought was broken by the flare of a match; the burst of light as it caught at a candle’s wick illuminated a woman: tall, pale, beautiful. She tucked a long strand of dark hair behind her ear groggily as she gestured at them to sit at her table. “Who is hurt?”</p><p>“No one yet,” the widow grumbled, “despite this one’s best efforts.” Lia wished the earth would swallow her. She’d lost track of how many times she’d wished for it over the last few weeks. “But there’ll be blood soon enough if this isn’t resolved quietly before they figure out what’s happened.”</p><p>The tall woman swallowed, sparing both intruders a long glance before dusting her sleeves and standing. “Let me make some tea while you tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>The gentle invitation was so mild, so unassuming, that if the old Fire Nation woman hadn’t been there and happy to begin rambling away after a beat of silence from Lia to spare her the ordeal of explaining herself, she might have been able to find her voice on her own, and that alone nearly filled her eyes with tears. Even so, in some ways it was a relief not to have to. And another mercy that arranging the kettle and teacups and leaves by the cup kept this new stranger’s back to her, saving her from one more humiliation of having another pair of eyes on her as her folly and pain were recounted yet again.</p><p>She didn’t know whether she really regretted it yet, though. Her skin throbbed where the old woman’s nails had dug into her wrists.</p><p>“Fire Nation platoon came through her village nine weeks or so ago; didn’t settle, they just burned and pillaged their way through. As they do. Last week, the villagers figure out exactly how much they took, and send our little miss here packing to have her distasteful little fire-spawn somewhere out of sight of their perfect little Earth Kingdom community. Now, I don’t rightly know <em>how</em>,” and here the crone pauses to give her a sharp glare, “but one way or another she finds her way here, where the same group of soldiers responsible are now stationed.”</p><p>A heavy pause followed.</p><p>“I volunteered to fetch water for the camp,” Lia whispered at last, slowly lifting her jade green eyes to meet firelit gold across the table. “I asked for work in the kitchens, I prepared the meals, I helped serve them. I recognized him the moment I saw him, and…” she trailed away, words escaping her. “He didn’t know me. He should’ve. That was his last mistake.”</p><p>The old widow snorted, but she and the tall woman with the dark hair didn’t break their gaze. There was something on her face that she didn’t expect, yet at the same time, couldn’t place, that sent a shiver down her spine. A look of appraisal, perhaps? Of acknowledgement? Of warning?</p><p>“I caught her with the poison. An insult to your work, Mistress Ora, an affront to every healer, to turn the tools of healing to murder.” Ora…flinched. Ever so slightly. But it was enough, given by the triumphant gleam in the older woman’s sharp amber eyes, and Lia’s fingers clenched. “But perhaps her only chance at vengeance. I hope it was worth it, girl, because you might’ve had a chance at starting over here if you’d kept your mouth shut and your head down, but you’re going to find yourself at an execution trial long before they have a chance to throw your baby in the river if you’re still here when the serving staff remembers the <em>Earth Kingdom girl</em> who happened to serve that man his last meal.”</p><p>A tear slipped down Lia’s cheek and she brushed it away angrily, unsure if she cared that much, or if she even wanted to. Ora cleared her throat. “What is it that you are hoping I will be able to do for her, then?”</p><p>“I’m old. I’ve seen enough of the world to know when people need to disappear. I’ve had a feeling you’ve been trying to here for awhile now, <em>Mistress.</em>“ She leveled a critical eye on the healer, and Lia suppressed a shiver. <em>Where on earth is she going with this?</em> “I’m sure you can deduce by now that neither she or you will ever truly be able to accomplish that anywhere near a Fire Nation territory.”</p><p>Ora’s elegant dark brows drew together reproachfully. “Perhaps that is so, now that you’ve sheltered a wanted murderer in my walls. Did you bring her here because you believed I would help, or because you thought you could threaten me?”</p><p>“Those portraits might not be well known enough to most colonists to be recognized, but you and I both know what they are.”</p><p>Lia’s eyes flew to the picture frame beside the stove. It contained two inked children’s pictures: expressions sterile and reserved, clothes and hair perfectly arranged. <em>They’re so…emotionless.</em> Yet Mistress Ora’s eyes flashed with anger, before she sucked in a long breath. “So you would have me leave Fire Nation territory altogether. Does it matter to you where, or do you simply wish to be rid of me? You could simply report me. This is quite a bit of trouble to go through.”</p><p>“Did you never consider that there might be those who supported you?” She took a leaf of papers from her satchel gingerly, proffering them to Lia, who took them silently, still uncertain. “There’s paperwork for both of you here, and some money to see you to the city.”</p><p>Mistress Ora looked over her shoulder at the portraits of the two children.</p><p>“Of course, what you do once you’re there is your own business. But you must know by now, you will never be able to stop looking over your shoulder as long as you stay in Fire Nation territory. So. Will you take this girl and her child to safety?”</p><p>Her voice came out barely more than a whisper. “Where?”</p><p>“Where else? Ba Sing Se. The last bastion of the Earth Kingdom against the Fire Nation crusade.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Relent, Resist, Resolve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…And the balance was restored, till the end of the Avatar’s lifetime.”</p><p>Katara sighed into her needlework. Gran-Gran’s gravelly voice was a sorely needed comfort, telling old stories in the heavy shadows of the night. “Why hasn’t the Avatar stopped the Fire Nation, Gran-Gran? How could he just abandon us when the world needs him so badly?”</p><p>Across the fire, Hakoda’s eyes crinkled sadly. “No one really knows, sweetheart. But some people think that Fire Lord Sozin must’ve found a way to end the Avatar cycle permanently. Who’s to say if the Avatar was ever even reborn into the Air Nomads, even before they were wiped out? If it was the case, we should’ve seen a Water Tribe Avatar long ago, and yet there has been no sign.” He sighed. “I don’t know what else we can believe, at this point. Either the Avatars are gone for good, or the Air Nomad Avatar has somehow managed to live through all this time, hiding away from the war and all the evil in the world.”</p><p>Sokka scraped a stone across the edge of his boomerang thoughtfully. “Y’know, putting the responsibility for the entire world on one person’s shoulders seemed a bit much. Also, kind of like an excuse for regular people not to take care of themselves. If we aren’t willing to go out and fight for ourselves, why should some magic spirit being do it for us?”</p><p>“Sokka!” Katara glared, pinching her pricked thumb. “The Avatar is the spirit of the world! They’re supposed to keep it in balance and protect it. It shouldn’t matter whether some parts of the world deserve to be saved, it’s still their job! And how could any of us have hope in the world if we didn’t know that the spirits care about justice and peace?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’m just saying. The last hundred years haven’t exactly proven that to be true.”</p><p>“Well, <em>I</em> still believe the Avatar will return and stop the Fire Nation.”</p><p>“Children.” Gran-Gran’s tone was reproving, but across the fire Hakoda looked pensive. He stirred the coals, before meeting her and Sokka’s eyes in turn. Katara wasn’t sure what to make of the look, but it filled her with dread.</p><p>“It’s funny you should say that, Sokka. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now.” Katara’s heart beat so loudly she could feel the blood pulsing in her ears. Her father set the poker aside and folded his hands in his lap. “The other men and I have decided that it’s not enough to sit here in isolation while the Earth Kingdom fights the Fire Nation for us. Not when the Fire Lord will come right back to wipe us out after they’ve conquered the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Tribe. Not when at any moment, they could send another assault like the last one and wipe our village out entirely.”</p><p>Katara and Sokka blinked at him, then eachother. “So…you’re leaving us?”</p><p>“Not immediately. We have the winter to prepare for, and it will take time to teach the women and children to look after themselves. We’re thinking it’ll be a full year; enough time to help prepare, and then set out toward the Earth Kingdom before the heavy winter storms. I know it’s hard,” he said, gently stroking Katara’s cheek. She blinked in humiliation, unaware of when the tears had begun dripping down her cheeks.  “But I don’t want my beautiful daughter to grow up in a world where she has to be afraid of who she is. If there’s anything I can do to ensure that one day, you can go to the North Pole and learn to bend without having to live in fear that you’ll be taken away by a Fire Nation raid, then it’s my duty as your father to see it happen. You and Sokka both are so precious to me. I can’t allow this to go on the way it has any longer. We have to fight back.”</p><p>“Dad, I-“ her tears overwhelmed her. There was nothing she could think of to say, just the resounding betrayal echoing in her ears. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning us.”</p><p>“I would never abandon you!” The chief’s voice was stern, and he grasped both of her shoulders firmly. “I’m making sure that I never<em> have</em> to. Do you understand?”</p><p>She looked away lowly.</p><p>“Wait, who all is going to go? Our tribe isn't that big, a single fleet would take every...” Sokka trailed off, sounding lost.</p><p>“We’re going to need every edge over the Fire Nation that we can get.” Their father proffered a hand to each child. “Every able man will set sail with us. I know it’s going to be hard. I’ll miss you both every day. But we all have to make sacrifices sometimes, and this is one that we’re all going to have to learn how to live with.”</p><p>Tuning out the rest, Katara sunk into bitterness. Withdrawing her hand silently and setting aside the parka, she retreated to stir the stew.</p><p>
  <em>How much more will the war take from us?</em>
</p><p>There wasn’t much more conversation for the rest of that evening, but Katara noted a look of grim resolve hardening on Sokka's face, and she worried at what he was deciding.</p><p><em>If the Avatar were here,</em> she thought, blinking away sudden tears, <em>none of this could happen. Maybe he’ll come back soon. Maybe Dad won’t need to leave. Or maybe Dad will find him and he’ll stop the war so they’ll all come home safely.</em></p><p>
  <em>He has to. I need him to.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Tugging their saddlebags free of their straps, Ursa sighed as she heard Lia shuffling in discomfort behind her. It wasn’t that she didn’t sympathize; she remembered all too well those aches and pains, even in these early stages. The topic just…she didn’t want to think about it.</p><p>She settled their bags beneath the outcrop of stone they were camping under in the fading light, handing the girl the cookpot. In a few moments she’d gather the firewood; first she wanted to get everything in order. The sooner things were organized, the faster tasks could be accomplished, and the more time she could have to herself before she had to rest for the next day’s journey.</p><p>“How much farther till the next town?” Despite having been sitting while Ursa did all the work, she still sounded breathless. They’d been together for a few weeks by now, but neither of them had broken through the tense distance of their acquaintance. She couldn’t really make out what she thought of the girl’s personality; their interactions had been limited to the minimum necessary to journey smoothly. <em>Perhaps I should be more gentle.</em></p><p>“Another day and a half of travel, at this pace,” she said, conscious of the pang of guilt that softened her tone. “We’re not doing all that badly, for a couple of girls who’ve never traveled this way before.”</p><p>Gathering a few of the scrolls she’d brought along in her hasty packing weeks ago, then turning to snag the now-empty water skin, she caught the Earth Kingdom girl’s shudder and haunted expression. “Sometimes I wonder…”</p><p>The silence hung heavy between them for a long moment. In her gut, Ursa <em>knew</em> what Lia was asking herself, as certainly as she knew the memories dredging themselves up from the dark corners of her own mind where she’d shoved them away.</p><p>
  <em>Three weeks after she’d left the capital and the third missed period. She’d waited to be sure before she told him, but then everything had happened…it could still be a fluke, brought on by stress, but here in the dark with the wind whistling eerily through the trees she knew deep down the truth she had denied in the daylight-</em>
</p><p>“Lia,” she began gently, shaking away the vision and sitting carefully beside the younger woman. “If this…if you don’t want it, you don’t have to go through with it.”</p><p>Red-rimmed jade eyes met pale gold. “What choice do I have? Even if I…if I even <em>wanted</em> to…if somehow I could get rid of it, it’s not like I can just <em>go home</em>. It <em>wasn’t</em> my fault, but they drove me out anyway. If they let me back into the village at all, I’d still be <em>tainted.</em> No one would ever look at me without remembering. I’d have no future.” Her hands clutched reflexively at her midsection, voice choked with anguish. “Maybe this is the best chance I have now for a family.”</p><p>“I wish,” Ursa intoned, emotion bleeding into her words, “that I could tell you that wouldn’t happen. I wish I could go back and prevent any of this from occurring. It breaks my heart that I can’t. But that doesn’t mean the only alternative is to have it. If you don’t <em>really</em> want it, if you’re not truly ready, if you don’t want <em>this</em> one, it’s still early enough. Don’t let yourself think you don’t have options.” She took a steadying breath. “Whatever choice you make, I’ll still take you to Ba Sing Se. I <em>will</em> see you get the chance to start a new life. But I want that life to be <em>yours</em>, fully and completely; you should have the chance to remake it on entirely your own terms. No one there will know, or will ever have to know, anything that came before the moment you set foot inside the city walls. And no one who deserves your time would ever think less of you for it.”</p><p>Lia’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and she finally broke her gaze, face turned away, and Ursa lost herself for another moment to memory.</p><p><em>She shuddered against the chill wind, clutching the bitterly pungent herbs, the sense of hollow wrongness at every option eating at her mind. She’d lost her children and now she would give up another; it would be a worse betrayal to keep it, wouldn’t it? Surely Zuko and Azula would see it as a replacement. And if she did keep it, and </em>he<em> ever learned of it she couldn’t hope to keep it from him, they would be hunted to the ends of the earth, and how could she hope to escape with an infant, where she didn’t dare try with the older children-</em></p><p>Ursa bit her tongue, the sharp pain dragging her back to the present. Another breath to ground herself in the now, and she began again. “It’s not an easy decision to make. It doesn’t come without risks, and it <em>will</em> hurt. And no matter what you decide, it may not always be the easiest choice to live with. But you don’t have to decide now. Just…think about it. Whatever you choose, I’ll see you through it. I can promise you that.” The girl didn’t return her gaze, but after a long moment she nodded jerkily. She wondered if she’d said something wrong, if she could’ve been more delicate, but further words evaded her and a bone-deep weariness settled behind her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe I should’ve tried to connect with her more, gotten to know each other better, before bringing this up. But it can’t wait forever. Sooner or later, she’ll have to decide, or let indecision make her choice for her.</em>
</p><p>Finding her feet unsteadily as the younger girl began setting up for the fire, Ursa retreated. Twigs and long dead leaves crunched underfoot as she wandered away from their campsite, searching for solitude and silence. Winding her way through the overgrowth towards the burble of the stream she’d spotted earlier in the day, she paused at last by a small clearing close to the water. Light glanced off of the bright green leaves and silvery bark, pouring through the openings in the treetops in solid beams.</p><p>She took a long moment to absorb it, wondering whether the chill along her spine came from the breeze, or the memories she’d dredged up earlier. <em>It was for the best. I am here now, and cannot change it.</em> Taking a deep breath, she settled atop a large rock, crossing her legs and unfurling a scroll. Delicately inked figures danced neatly against the crisp white parchment, bursts and whirls of flame following the motion of the movements.</p><p>Beautiful, for all that violence.</p><p>Ursa had never once felt the glow of the spirits’ blessings. Never looked into a flame and felt a <em>pull,</em> felt its life as surely as she felt the thundering of her own heartbeat inside her chest. Once, she’d resented that. And when her son had begun burning himself and sleeping in pools of sunlight for months on end, she’d been afraid that it was that same desperation; jealousy and stubbornness fusing into a terrifying obsession. Afraid…and understanding. She’d felt the sting of that denial herself too long to be unsympathetic. But it wasn’t longing for the gift she’d been denied her whole life that brought her back to these forms now, after so many times she’d reviewed them for others’ sakes. No, it was a desire for another kind of power, one that months of coaching Zuko, briefly Azula, then the string of colonists’ children she’d guided through them told her she might find in them, if she knew how to look.</p><p>They could not teach her to firebend. But they could teach her to <em>fight.</em></p><p>And if her children ever needed her to again, she would,</p><hr/><p>“Azula!” Ty Lee’s shriek, as close to indignant as anyone ever dared to address her with, grated delightfully in the princess’s ears as she tumbled into her stomach. They were in the courtyard of the Academy, in the hazy midafternoon break, fresh out of classes for the day.</p><p><em>Serves her right,</em> she snickered internally. No one should be <em>better</em> than her at anything. Not even handstands.</p><p>Not that it <em>bothered</em> her that Ty Lee’s balance and flexibility were superior. She wasn’t <em>jealous</em> of a silly little noble girl. Why should she be?</p><p><em>Because she reminds me that I’m not perfect. Not yet.</em> Azula took a steadying breath to quell the anguished rage that flared in her chest at the reminder. She could use this. She would be honed to the sharpest point by allowing her emotions to drive her towards improvement. <em>Anger is a tool. Its purpose is to move me to the actions that will protect and refine me. </em>Unlike Zuko, she understood that. His emotions clouded his judgement; they defeated him before a single true strike ever reached him. True, he would pick himself back up and throw himself at it again, but he never <em>learned</em>. It was a pity. <em>But I will be everything he cannot. I will be perfect. I will be Fire Lord, and I will keep both of us safe, because no one will </em>dare<em> to defy me.</em></p><p>“Show me the trick again, Ty Lee,” the princess demanded with a sudden intensity. “We will drill it until the sun goes down, or until I can do it without displacing a single strand of hair.”</p><p>A hiss of air and a sharp <em>thunk</em> as Mai’s knife shot into the trunk of a tree behind them punctuated Ty Lee’s intimidated expression as it exploded into a brilliantly convincing smile. Azula nodded with grim satisfaction.</p><p>
  <em>Keep them afraid. If they fear me enough, they’ll never leave me. Not like Mother did.</em>
</p><p>By nightfall, she could almost do it with one arm.</p><p>Almost. But it wasn't quite good enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic was originally posted on fanfiction dot net. It is currently being updated and reposted here.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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